“Indeed. How do you know that?”
“He was in the bush with his prospector friend, when I left Bush Robin Creek. But he robbed no mails, bless you, Pilot. What would he want with other people’s letters?”
“I don’t pretend to know. There’s money in mail-bags, I suppose. Perhaps he was after that.”
“He’s after gold, right enough, and he’ll get it, if I’m not mistaken.”
Jack had risen to go.
“We leave early in the morning,” he said. “I must get some sleep. Good-bye, Pilot; good-bye, Miss Summerhayes.”
“Good luck, lad. Come back rich.”
Rose was silent till Jack was near the door. Then she said, “I shall remember your recipe—I shan’t neglect home duties: I shall attend to them regularly.”
Jack laughed, and the Pilot went with him to the front door.
“Eh, lad, there never was such a gal for minding a house. She can make a batter-puddin’ with anyone, and I don’t care who the next is. Good night, lad, good night. There’s never no need to tell her to look after her old father, none at all. And it’s a good test—as good as you can have, Jack, my lad. If a gal looks after her old father well, she’ll look after her husband, too, when he comes along. Good night, Jack; good night. Eh, but you’re in a lucky streak. You’ll die rich, Jack. Good night, Jack; good night.”